


December

by Schuyler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-04
Updated: 2004-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London is dreary, as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to a story I never wrote.

Neville despised London. He thought he might like a city where the weather could at least match his moods. Today, for example, he had been in the mood for a bit of December snow. What he got instead was rain. Cold, hard rain sliding under the collar of his cloak and through his socks, chilling him to the bone. He had, temporarily, removed his apartment from the Floo Network (to avoid any unwelcome surprises), so he had no choice but to walk home from the Ministry in the unrelenting downpour. His umbrella was, helpfully, hung behind the front door. 

The bright spot in this day had been thinking of his bed. Neville had been given his Gran's London apartment when he went to work for the Ministry and it hadn't been refurnished since she left the City in 1932. For that matter, since she'd taken the apartment in 1918. The bedroom was a tiny little room with warm, stained-glass lamps and a pot-bellied stove. The bed came up to Neville's waist and was piled with the quilts she'd been making for him since he moved out of the crib. From the bed, propped up on his pillows and pushed down under the blankets, he could look out the little window at snow falling around the streetlamp. Or at least he could, if it was snowing and not pissing down rain. 

Neville pushed his way into the apartment and flipped on the lights. It was always so quiet in his apartment. He tossed his briefcase at the overstuffed sofa, ignored it as it bounced off and fell with a thud to the carpet, kicked off his shoes and hung up his cloak before going into the kitchen. He had opened the refrigerator and was contemplating drinking milk directly from the bottle before he noticed the owl that perched, cold and wet, inside the dormer over his kitchen window. He opened the window, removed the message as quickly as he could, fed the owl a treat and closed the window again before the rain (now falling sideways) could wet his hardwood floor. The envelope was blue (one of the ordinary, chatty voice owls) and had his name written across the front in Ginny's handwriting. He broke the seal and tossed it on the counter before going back for the milk. "Neville! Darling, where are you? I'm still on this island and I was thinking of you. I'm lying out on the beach in my swimsuit, the yellow one you sent for my birthday, and I figure it's got to be freezing in London." Neville nodded and raised the bottle to his lips, using his free hand to loosen his tie. "I know I say this every time and you ignore me every time, but leave dreary London! Come sit on the beach with me. There are some lovely local men I'd like you to meet. That is, unless nothing has changed since last we spoke. At any rate, write and tell me everything. Love you!" Neville screwed the top back on to the milk and put it back on the top shelf. He pushed the door closed with one hip and took Ginny's Chatter from where it rested calmly on the counter. The letters and Chatters from Ginny all lived in a green box on top of his desk. The desk was honestly more storage than anything. Work was left at the office and letters were written in his armchair or in bed. 

Neville still twitched at the sound of metal scraping against metal and the tumblers in the door lock turning. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the sound of someone else letting themselves in to his apartment, someone else breaching his wards. Neville turned smoothly, trying not to look startled. Draco stood in front of the door, dripping with rainwater and looking as angry as Neville had. Neville, on the other hand, was finally cheering up. "I hate this city," Draco said. 

Neville cast a drying spell on Draco and flicked his wand to light the stove as he closed the distance between them. Draco shrugged out of his coat and hung it up and when he turned again, Neville was waiting with a kiss. Neville backed Draco up a step, so that he was against the wall, and his fingers made short work of the wand holster around Draco's hips. Draco's hands mostly just slid under the strap of his shoulder holster and tugged and Neville backed up before Draco could snap the leather. "Come on, we're going to bed." 

"It's half five," Draco said, smirking a bit and toeing off his shoes. 

"It's much warmer in bed." Neville went to cast a warming spell on the sheets and strip out of his clothes. By the time he got to his side, Draco was already under the quilts, trying to warm hsi toes and muttering to himself. Neville folded back his side and climbed in, then turned his head to look at Draco, all drying blond hair and long pale neck, his head propped up on his pillow. His pillow in Neville's bed. Neville reached out and held Draco's hand under the blankets and Draco rested his arm on top of Neville's, exhaling in the companionable silence. "I was thinking we might go on vacation this winter. Someplace sunny."


End file.
